


Day Out

by timeisweird



Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Gen, Light Angst, One Shot, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-08
Updated: 2018-06-08
Packaged: 2019-05-19 20:59:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14881110
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/timeisweird/pseuds/timeisweird
Summary: The Doctor, when walking through the off-brand version of London they're now forced to call home, bumps into an old (best) friend. Or someone who should be that friend, but that they know can't be.





	Day Out

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cosmickaiju](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmickaiju/gifts).



> this is a gift for xander genocidal! i really hope u like it!!
> 
> cass is an oc of theirs. she's rose's girlfriend in pete's world and there is nothing you can do about it.
> 
> also there's a bit on how tentoo has an unstable form (multidimensional nonsense), and that they can't quite connect with time as well. those are all hcs of xanders, bc of tentoo's time lord humanness, and its cool as hell and i love everything they have to say about their boy tentoo.

They ran away.

(No, that makes them sound like a child, like someone that has to be looked after and cared for.)

They snuck out.

(That’s even worse.)

The point is, the Doctor is wandering the streets of this London, with the zeppelin's filling the skies and blocking the sun on occasion, the off-color timelines, the overwhelming sense of _not-quite_ and the absolute emptiness that fills their mind, and neither Rose nor Cass know about it.

They don’t know why they’re out here, really. Just an urge to keep on moving, they suppose, pushing them forward. (They won’t stop, can’t stop, if they do, then…) And the streets aren’t too crowded, for whatever reason, they haven’t bothered to keep track of the ebb and flow of foot traffic in this city. It’s easy enough to weave in and out the people that _are_ walking the pavement with them, anyhow.

They might be phasing in and out of tangibility, dreaded, unwanted form still unstable as always. It would account for the look of confusion and latent horror that they get when they pass a man weighed down with shopping bags, not bothering to step out of the way. Their shoulder bumps into him, or it _should,_ but it’s hard to keep themself so tightly physical as to be completely and utterly tangible. They’re pretty sure they phase through him, or something close to it.

Usually it’s a struggle to keep themself together at all, with the foreign-wrong timelines pulling at them, the terrible, terrible ache in their head (she’s gone, she’s _gone,_ and it _hurts so much)_ , a body that can’t decide if it wants to exist or not, because it _shouldn’t_ , human and Time Lord, it _can't_ work _,_ but against all the odds they stay stitched together, even if in the most abstract sense.

But today’s been alright, (It seems like they’ve mastered the art of ignoring it, pushing past it, if only for a few hours. They try not to think about the inevitable moment that everything comes crashing down on their head), so they let it slide. Heh.

It’s a bit of a surprise when they actually _do_ bump into someone, but they barely take a moment to stop, just breezing past. What’s the point of stopping to apologize when–

“Oi! Sunshine, where the hell do you think you’re going in such a hurry?”

They freeze.

No, no she can’t – it can’t be – she’s not here, she’s gone, she has to be, her mind couldn’t possibly – she’s _gone, she’s gone, she’s gone_ –

And yet, when they turn around stiffly, they’re greeted by ginger hair that frames a scowling face.

Her name is on the tip of their tongue, but suddenly they can’t speak, they can’t breathe (and don’t they have to breathe, now?).

(Do they even deserve to be able to say her name?)

She takes a few steps towards them, and she’s saying something, but they can’t parse the words, they can’t parse anything but the timeline that curls around her, tinged with that same not-right, unfamiliar flavor that permeates this universe so thoroughly, but _still_ Donna, somehow, in some way. Not _their_ Donna, but still… Donna.

She waves a hand in front of their face, and they jerk back – maybe they step back, maybe they’re just suddenly two feet away from her, away from this Donna from this universe that isn’t the Donna they know because the Donna they know, she’s not here, she’s gone, two-way metacrisis, there’s no way she could have survived for long like that and it’s their fault (the other Doctor’s fault, that is) ~~(and theirs)~~.

It feels like the carpet’s been pulled out from under them, and they’re grabbing for timelines to try and settle themselves, keep themselves on their feet, keep themselves _together_ , but Time slips through their fingers like coarse rope that burns and blisters, they can’t grab on, everything’s just out of reach when it should be _theirs,_  they’re the Doctor, Time should answer to them but it doesn’t, and they can’t stay here, with her, not this time, they’re so sorry but–

They run.

They manage to keep themselves together just enough so that they can push past her (and her touch burns, why does it burn, why can’t they _think),_ and bolt.

The concrete beneath their feet as they dart through the crowds is solid, but it doesn’t feel like it.

Then they’re in an alleyway.

It barely registers, though, even when they lean back against the wall, trying for something to support them, and suddenly they’re letting themself slide down to meet the damp ground, out of breath, out of energy. Everything’s blurry, and they wipe at their eyes absently. Their hand comes back wet.

* * *

 

The person pushes her out of the way and runs like the cops are after them – but they’re not, Donna knows they’re not, because what sort of criminal wears holographic fabric shoes and sweaters that look like they were cut from a roll of carpet meant for a new bowling alley?

But she upset them terribly, so badly they were shaking, staring at her, not saying a word _,_ and against everything telling her she should just let them be (they bumped into _her),_ she runs after them.

They run fast, like they’ve trained for a marathon, and Donna finds herself quickly losing them. She shouts after them, tries to get their attention, but they’re either ignoring her, or they don’t even hear her (which she finds hard to believe).

At one point they stumble, and she thinks they might fall, but something about them stutters, and then they’re running like nothing happened at all – she must not have seen them right, must be the sun in her eyes.

She watches them duck into an alleyway, and  now she’s wondering if this was such a good idea, chasing some stranger through the streets. Honestly, what would Veena think?

She stops running, gasping for air, legs burning. Someone passes her by with a confused glance, almost a glare, but she can't say she has the breath right now to make a comment about it.

Still, she’s come this far, and Donna Noble is rarely one to give up without a hell of an effort first. So she walks up to the alleyway, and looks around the corner, expecting to find them, probably taking a rest like she did. (Seriously, how can anyone keep running like that?)

But what she finds instead is an empty alleyway. It’s not even a through alleyway – at the end is a brick wall, far too high for anyone to climb. And she didn't see them _leave_ the same way they came.

They're just... gone.


End file.
